Slip Away into the Night

Sometimes morning is not just about waking up
It’s an ordeal, it’s a nightmare.

Just like the one,  where you wake up and find yourself
In the middle of an ocean.
Fighting for each breath, you give out SOS, but its all in vain.

There is no savior, you are on your own
There is this voice that resonates in your head
But to let it out, you are too scared.

You don’t want to be called crazy,
There is already enough name tags you hold.

All you want to do is slip away in to the night.

You don’t understand, why do you have to get up.
Sun tries hard to pull you out of the bed
But you don’t want to get up when your brain is dead.

You stare outside the window for hours and hours
And see these people passing by:  some strangers some known.

You try to figure out, if they feel the same
Or this “dead-brain” is only your thing to claim.

And you sit with your knees touching your heart
Tucked in bed sheet, feeling invisible to time
You wait patiently, for each hour to pass.
And time mocks you on your face.
Take its sweet time, travels in its own pace.

Going Crazy

I don’t see you
yet I feel you
today, tomorrow
all along

In emptiness of this house
Craziness of time, emptiness of mind
in all my decisions directions
I see you all around.

In that smell in the kitchen
the fresh bed linen
the curtain in the window
the hair on the pillow

I feel you, see you
everywhere like
I am going crazy

Soaked in gloominess of time
without you this house is no home
haunted and cursed like an old
building left alone

Waiting for resurrection
to rise from ashes
like a phoenix
from dead

I have to BELIEVE

What do you love?
My frustrated heart asked me one day.
The question froze me
and the world stood still from that day.

Never ever my life had been same
from that moment on and today.
wandering like a crazy nomad
figuring out the life's plan
what I love and what I want
bears monumental burden
and drives me mad.

Phases have come and gone
of this life that I belong
the question still haunts me to core
I am blank, clueless
don't know what this life has in store

What I love? put me to rock bottom
everyday, every moment trying to come up
swim upwards and see the surface
but drown I feel instead.

They say, if hobby is your work
then you never work again.
mine is a curious case
as I am wishful, from canvas to pen
from sprints to walks
from swim to pumping iron.

I don't know who I am
what I want and to become of me
But I need to believe
and I have to believe
that this life has something bigger
for me, something strong and deep

Unless I figure that out
I can't rest and I can't sleep
No matter how much it chokes me
No matter how many mindless keys I hit
on my stupid laptop, from 9-5
in this place called Office where I sit.

I have to believe, something better is there
something that would make me happy
let me live my life
and don't drive me crazy.

I have to believe......

We aRe WriTerS

Writers: we see the hidden
the meaning behind a meaning

Shape our words carefully
mould them delicately

Our words are mosaics
the murals on ancient churches
Solace in times of confusion
and comfort in times of war

We paint words and carve the emotions
What a painter does to their paintings
we do the same to our poems

We are painters of emotions
hidden behind the unspoken words
the dilemma of a confused mind
the ecstasy of broken love

We squeeze our heart and drain our soul
to find the perfect word
to tune our life's score

We are writers, the crazy ones
full of thoughts and wondersome
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